Divided
by bobness
Summary: "...Whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government." Though Confederate used those words to break away from the oppressive Union government, they still had to fight for their freedom. Will Confederate be able to survive for his people? Civil War fanfic focusing on the CSA.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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><p>When he awoke, he didn't know who he was. Or where he was, for that matter. He just opened his sky-blue eyes and found himself standing in the midst of a lush, green forest. No one was around him, and he was quite alone. Being alone, he quickly decided, was the worst, and it gave him an awful feeling. But, even if he did find someone, would he be able to speak with them? He called out into the wilderness around him, and was pleased to note that his voice worked perfectly fine. Finally managing to feel a bit better, he called out again, his loud, strong voice stretching throughout the otherwise empty forest.<p>

Well, at least he had a voice. If nothing else, he had a voice. It wasn't much comfort, but it gave him the strength and courage to move on. The branches and sticks that littered the ground crushed under his boots, and he experienced a rush of childish glee, now deliberately stepping amongst the more crowded areas of the forest floor.

So sudden, though, did he have a thought; _I remember this. I remember having joy similar to this._ But, when? When did he experience happiness and laughter? It seemed new, but a sense of familiarity still remained, prompting him to think harder.

And, then, he _did_ receive the memory he was trying to find. A little child- golden-blond hair and blue eyes- was jumping in water puddles, soaking his trousers and bringing a simple joy to his face. _That's...me._ The young man thought, closing his eyes and reliving the forgotten memory. _No, wait...that's who I used to be._ He didn't even know what he was supposed to mean by that though. All he knew was that he _used_ to be someone else.

Then, who was he now?

He started walking again, his face screwed up in conversation, searching desperately through the small storage of memories he knew he must possess. He saw quick flashes of some, but still, nothing came. Until, that is, he walked out of the forest and into an open field. _I remember this place, _he thought. And, indeed he did. A young child, the same child, only slightly older, running across the field, the same field, giggling and squealing. Behind the child was a man, also laughing. However, before he was able to focus on the man's face, the memory disappeared.

Unable to bring more of this scene up, the young man sighed and began trekking on through the field, coming across beautiful sights every now and then, and being able to recall exactly how he used to play in these beautiful sights.

One was particularly strong. The child was sitting on the ground, surrounded by flowers, a man laying down next to him. The man looked to be the same as the other one, the one chasing said boy. "England?" the boy asked, picking a few flowers. "When will I become big and strong like you?"

The man- England, was it?- smiled, his eyes closed and his face toward the sky. "Soon, America. Very soon."

_Is...is my name America? No, I would remember it if it were America. Then, what? _Well, at least he knew the man- England. A nation across the sea, a little island. Yes, that seemed right. Lost in the American Revolution.

Well, then, he _had_ to be America. He looked like the child England called America, and he had all of America's memories. If so, then why didn't he exactly feel like America?

Suddenly, it all came flowing back into him. A separation, a secession. South Carolina first, then others. Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas. They weren't part of the United States anymore, were they?

But, they were part of him.

They were part of the Confederacy.

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><p><strong>I predict that I might offend someone by writing about the Confederacy. Sorry if I do- I just noticed that there aren't too many Civil War stories that focus on the Confederate side of America.<strong>

**Anyway, awful prologue, I know. I just had to have a starting point, though. Oh, and no historical notes today! I figured, since I'm just starting it, I'll explain more stuff later. Please review, even if it is just hate mail. **


	2. A Sovereign Nation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Please be aware that some of this material might be offensive. Please handle it maturely and respect the viewpoints of others. Thank** **you. **_

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><p>Not many people knew about the living personifications of the countries that they resided in. Most of the political people were aware of their existence, some of the more important ones, such as the presidents, might even befriend these countries, but, for the most part, they went unnoticed. Confederate was sure that a select few of Senators might know, but he wasn't certain if President Davis would know.<p>

Maybe President Davis would view him to be some lunatic.

Luckily, all went smoothly. It seems that Davis, having been a war hero as well as the Secretary of War under President Polk, had the fortune of being knowledgeable in the existence of America. It made sense, he had explained, that there was also to be a Confederate States of America.

Confederate had breathed a sigh of relief at that. He wasn't quite certain he would have been accepted so readily, and it made most of his worries go away.

The two instantly developed a strong relationship. Confederate and Davis would spend hours discussing plans for the new country, and Confederate could see that he was an amazing president.

"You know, I really didn't expect to be so...ready," he confessed one day as they took a walk in Davis' garden.

The president shot him a confused glance. "What do you mean by that exactly?" he asked.

"Well, it's just..." Confederate tried to think of a way to explain it. "I know I was once America. I know that now. Back when I was him, I would have never dreamed that part of me would just up and leave." He scratched the back of his neck, a tad embarrassed at trying to explain this. "I'm not sure if I'm saying this correctly."

Davis gave him a warm smile. "To be frank, lad, the makings of a living, walking country as yourself are quite beyond me."

"If that's so, then why do you believe?" Confederate asked, his sky-blue eyes searching the president through his glasses.

"Well, first off, I was told by President Polk himself. I didn't believe Polk to be insane, and there was no way any sane man could create such a far-fetched lie, so I assumed it was truth. Furthermore, it's just like asking a Christian why he believes in an all-knowing God. Faith."

That made sense, Confederate had to agree. "Oh." He now felt like an utter child. "You're really smart compared to myself, President Davis. I admire you."

Davis let out a soft laugh. "Confederate, you have more intelligence then I could ever even dream of possessing. I've heard the plans that you have devised, and they're lovely."

"Yeah, but that's because I'm making plans about _myself_," Confederate pointed out. "I feel guilty, 'cause it's as if I'm looking out only for me."

But, even as he said that, his president shook his head. "No, no. Confederate, if the states didn't secede, you wouldn't be alive. The people are what makes you you. So, if you look at it technically, you're doing what's best for these people."

That was a new way of viewing it. Confederate stopped his walk and narrowed his eyes at Davis. "See, I told you that you're smarter than me."

Again, Davis just replied with a laugh. And, again, he completely disagreed.

Sometimes, Confederate decided, life was weird. Here the two men were, calling themselves dumb and praising the other. _Why do we put ourselves down this way, and yet still enjoy doing it so much?_ He didn't exactly have an answer, but it didn't exactly matter, for they soon just decided that they both had a similar amount of brains and moved on to discuss a more important matter.

"I can only assume that you have been informed of the Union's unwillingness to remove their troops from Fort Sumter," Davis stated, after clearing his throat and continuing his walk.

Confederate followed, just a few steps behind. "Uh, yes," he replied, trying to make his speech just as refined as his president's. "That's in Charleston, right?" He saw the sharp nod of Davis' head, so he continued. "We occupy the other forts around there, but they don't want to leave Sumter...isn't that right?"

Okay, so perhaps he was a bit new at this whole 'running a country' thing. But, it was rather difficult keeping up with the movements of his people _and_ that of the Union. _And, once we finally get settled into the whole 'running of a country' thing, I suppose I'll have to start worrying about international affairs as well._ He'd need a lot of practice by the time that came around. Hopefully he'd receive it quickly. After all, it didn't look as if the Union was all too keen on letting him go.

Davis didn't seem to notice his nervousness, though. "Correct, Confederate. Well, we tried negotiating peacefully. You see, considering that South Carolina is part of the Confederacy, part of you, it makes perfect sense that Fort Sumter rightfully belongs to us."

"That's completely obvious," Confederate agreed with an angry mumble, and Davis patted his shoulder.

"All of us have the same mindset. It's not as if the Union would allow a foreign nation, such as Great Britain, to claim a fort in their territory, would they?"

"Of course not!"

Another smile came from Davis at Confederate's passion. "Well, we sent delegates up to D.C. We offered to pay for the Federal properties, and we explained that we wanted to enter in a peace treaty with the United States."

Confederate blinked. He hadn't heard about this. Or, maybe he had and just wasn't paying attention. Either way, it was new to him. "I suppose that didn't turn out well."

"Unfortunately, no. Their new president, Abraham Lincoln, refuses to recognize us as a nation. So, as you can see, if he agrees to our wishes, he would then be admitting that we are an actual country." Davis shook his head, clearly irritated by Lincoln's lack of respect for the Confederate States. "If he had just signed a peace treaty with us, we could live side by side as two friendly nations, and it wouldn't come to war."

With a sigh, Confederate lowered his eyes to the ground. "So, it will come to fighting, won't it?" He expected as much.

"I believe it will, and sooner then we think," Davis answered, giving his nation a sad look. "Lincoln told Governor Pickens that he is sending provisions to the fort, and that if we attempt to attack the fort, he will retaliate."

Confederate glanced up. "Hold on- why didn't Lincoln tell you? I mean, you _are_ the president. It's only common sense that you tell the leader of the country, not the governor, even if he is a damn good one."

Davis gave an easy grin. "You forget, he refuses to see us as a country. Speaking to me would be doing just that- calling us our own sovereign nation."

That just seemed ridiculous, in Confederate's opinion. "Look, you've got me, you've got a Constitution, you've got everything an official country should have, and he doesn't view us as anything but some rebellious states?" Confederate's eyes narrowed. "That's bullshit, Mr. President!" After a swift glance from Davis, Confederate cleared his throat. "Sorry, please excuse my language."

Merely looking amused, Davis replied, "It's quite alright. I was in the war once, I'm used to it."

Really, Confederate didn't think such a Christian man would just brush off cursing like that, but he decided not to push it. "I'm sorry," he apologized once more. "But, I just think Lincoln is really dumb if he continues to refuse this. It's simple, most others from the Union have accepted this! I think." Confederate scrunched his nose up in thought. "Have they?"

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps, we can hope that they have. If _they_ accept us, Lincoln will have no choice but to also accept us." Davis shrugged.

Confederate crossed his arms in a pout. "I'd like to punch him one day."

Davis' laugh rang throughout the garden. "My, my, Confederate! Such violence for one so young and innocent!"

"Not exactly innocent. I'm still kinda America. In a way. Maybe."

"You're not certain yourself what you once were, are you?"

Confederate shook his head with a wide smile, seemingly uncaring. "Nope. All I know is that I woke up and I was someone new, even if I still kinda remember once being America. I guess it's hard to explain. Maybe only countries can experience this."

"I'm sure you're correct in that," Davis agreed. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be a country, to live all those long years, to fight in all those bloody battles."

With a shrug, Confederate said, "I guess it's not really something we think about. I, for one, could never imagine being a human. Their lives have always seemed short, yet they have so much spirit. It amazes me, actually, how little damage the human body can take before it crumbles, but how often I see humans continue onward for what they believe in."

"You might have to see humans do more of that," Davis pointed out. "It _will _come to battle. Fighting is inevitable at this point. I'm afraid we'll have to see many lives lost."

Silence filled the air as they both pondered this horrifying reality. Confederate noticed, with irony, that the birds were chirping as if they hadn't a care in the world. _Well, they don't. I'd like to be a bird one day and not have to worry about any of this mess._ But, he was here for his people, he was here for their shared belief in the rights of their states. He would never leave, not in a million years. "I'll fight with them," he declared. "I'll be by their side. I'll encourage them to go on and continue in their battle for their faith in the Confederacy. Their faith in me." He smiled over at his friend. "Because my faith in them is just as strong."

Davis returned the smile as they ended their walk. "That's what I want to hear, Confederate. Those are the words of a true man, of a true country."

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><p><strong>History lecture time, Da-DUM! If you wish, just skip this part. <strong>

**First off- reasons as to why the Confederacy seceded from the United States. This is actually highly controversial in many ways. Some believe it to be slavery. I, however, don't see slavery having much affect on the decision to secede. Now, if you look at textbooks, they make it to be fully about slavery. It really wasn't. Slavery didn't actually play a big role until the Emancipation Proclamation, and even then, the Confederacy still fought for the state, not because they were against slavery. 90% of Confederate soldiers, I believe, didn't even own a slave (correct me if I'm wrong, please). Lincoln even argued that the South would have a harder time protecting slavery outside of the Union then they would if they had stayed in the Union. However, there was a slight role with slavery, though it was more on how the South was to be treated. When Northern states abolished slavery, ****the slaveholders were compensated for their slaves. Southern states believed that Congress would abolish slavery in their states without giving them the same treatment they gave the North, meaning they were just going to get rid of slavery and leave it at that. This would damage ****the southern economy like crazy, and it would continue to prove that the north typically received better treatment (if you actually look at history from right after the Revolution, the north WAS ****treated better than the south). ****Just for the record, if you still think 'see, they wanted slaves to stay', the majority of the population (69-75%) didn't own slaves.**

**Economic problems were probably one of the main causes. When the government wished to pass a federal tariff, the Southern states went into an uproar, since they were hit quite hard by these tariffs. And, last but not least, I mainly see it as a fight between state rights and federal rights. The South, since the American Revolution, has always favored a strict interpretation of the Constitution. ****They didn't want the federal government to have too much power (this is also known, in the early days of America, at least, as anti-federalism- and, to help you out, just look at Thomas Jefferson, the first anti-federalist president). The government was exercising their power ****in a way that threatened those who believed more in state power. THESE are the reasons that the Confederacy left, not just because, "LOL, let's just have a bunch of slaves and be all evil and stuff."**

**Okay, I just wrote a lot on that, so I'll be brief with the rest of my notes. Davis, as stated, was the Confederate president. I actually believe he was first against the states seceding, but he viewed states rights over federal rights, so he left his position in the United States and joined the Confederacy, where he was voted into the presidency without any opposition. **

**I hope I explained the rest well in my story- Ft. Sumter and the difficulties surrounding it, Lincoln's refusal to view the Confederacy as a nation, etc. If not, please either look it up or shoot me a PM! I'd be more than happy to help.**

**Also, don't use Wiki. I usually have it up for a reference if I'm confused on something, but, so far, it kinda seems like it hates the Confederacy, for it only offers criticism about it. Go to actual history websites, and, if possible, try and find views on both sides.**

**Anyway, review, love on me, send me hate mail, whatever. You guys know the drill.** **Again, sorry for the lengthy notes. I just like explaining history and stuff.**


	3. Fort Sumter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Please be aware that some of this material might be offensive. Please handle it maturely and respect the viewpoints of others. Thank** **you. **_

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><p>"Why does everything have to happen so damn early?" Confederate muttered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to better wake up. Men were scurrying about around him, preparing for the attack on Fort Sumter. Confederate himself had chosen to come here to help his people; after his short speech to Davis, how could he just stay at home and relax?<p>

Really, though...it was _early_. Confederate valued his sleep and...well, he wasn't getting it.

Beauregard calmly walked past the busy soldiers and stood in front of Confederate, a smile on his face. "Ready, sir?"

Confederate eyed him coolly. He wasn't certain if this man knew exactly who he was. He was almost certain his brigadier general did, but, then again, maybe he was just calling him 'sir' out of respect.

Eh. It didn't matter much to him anyway.

The young nation straightened himself, trying desperately not to look as sleepy as he felt. "Uh, y-yes. Let's commence the attack!"

Well, that had been the wrong thing to say. Beauregard blinked at him, a blank expression etched upon his face. "Actually, we won't be attacking for another half-hour, sir. And, to top that, I certainly didn't receive the memo where _you_ were going to give orders."

Confederate winced, mentally cursing himself for such an idiotic move. Why, oh _why_ couldn't this be easier? He felt bitter jealousy toward Union. He must have this whole thing down. _If we weren't enemies, I really do wish he could give me some pointers on it._ Quickly thinking, he gave an apologetic smile to the man. "Sorry. I'm just-"

"Tired, yes, I know," Beauregard cut him off with a wave of his hand. "But, so are we all. Just make sure you remember your place, sir. President Davis told me you were important to the Confederacy, but that does not mean you're allowed to act high and mighty." With one last glare, the general walked off, ordering his men to do whatever it was they were doing. Preparing for the battle or something. Confederate yawned. Geez, he _really_ needed to wake up. It wasn't good to just piss off the brigadier general like he did.

But, still, a little part of him was angry. He felt that he _was_ more important then the rest of the men, that he _was_ allowed to feel high and mighty. He tried brushing these feelings aside, but found himself holding onto them, instead. _It's Beauregard's fault,_ he thought. _His question was confusing and then he goes off and snaps at me like that. Of course I have a right to be angry!_

He continued standing there for a few more minutes, just content to watch the hustle and bustle around him. Finally, though, he realized, _Maybe...I should be helping? Yeah, then these guys will stop giving me such weird looks._

And, so, he joined in with his people in setting up the gun arrangements, trying not to trip over every possible thing. In his defense, it was dark. Again, he found himself cursing whoever gave the orders to wake up at such an hour.

Oh, right. Beauregard.

He could already tell that he was going to have some trouble with that man in the near future.

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><p>"How many men do we have?" Confederate asked Beauregard, as the brigadier general still ran about, making sure there were no mistakes. "Do we outnumber them, because if we don't, they might be able to do something and kill us."<p>

Beauregard sighed, obviously irritated by these questions. "We have around five-hundred-"

"Around?"

Confederate's comment went ignored. "And they have far less. Plus, that fort isn't well-equipped. They have little food and little weapons." He sent a smirk over his shoulder. "We've already won this battle of the war."

"There...there really isn't a war, yet," Confederate pointed out.

"Don't kid yourself. There's a war. There's been a war. Maybe it hasn't been officially declared as of yet, but...I believe the war between the North and the South has been going on since Washington first took the presidency."

Confederate sighed. He really didn't like Beauregard's smug nature. "Aren't you going to order the firing?"

Beauregard scoffed at him. "Giving me orders again, are we? Like I told you, I'm the only leading this fight, so just stay the hell out of my business, got it?"

He _really_ didn't like Beauregard.

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><p>When firing began at 4:30 that morning, Confederate was ready for it. Mainly because Beauregard approached him and said something along the lines of, "We're actually firing now, if you're interested in getting off your lazy ass and helping us."<p>

Truth be told, though, it didn't look as if the man needed any help. They seemed to know what they were doing as they bombarded the fort. Confederate watched with curiosity. The Union soldiers weren't even _trying_ to fire back. _Huh. Guess Beauregard was right about something- they really don't have much ammo._

Discovering this made him wince. He just hoped they didn't kill anyone. Sure, it was war and they were the enemy...but, they _weren't fighting back_. "Hey, Beauregard?"

The brigadier general standing next to him shouted some more orders than sighed. "Please refer to me by my proper title."

_Oh, if this war doesn't kill him, I certainly will!_ Swallowing his pride, Confederate tried again. "Brigadier General Beauregard?"

"Yes?"

"Please make sure that your men don't kill anyone."

Beauregard shot him a strange look. "Haven't you ever been to war before, kid?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the canons.

Confederate shrugged. "Uh, w-well, I..." Honestly, he didn't know. Was it him or was it Union? He supposed it would have to be the latter, since he still took the name United States of America.

Again, Beauregard managed to make him angry by yelling, "Then please refrain from ordering me around!"

Keeping his anger down, Confederate instead turned back to the fort, the dark sky now lit up from the fires that were beginning to spring up upon the fort.

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><p>The next day was just the exact same as the 12th- fire some more. This time, though, Confederate hadn't received a wink of sleep, for he wanted to stay up and make sure his men were alright. He had even managed to get over his uselessness, and was now actually working the guns with his people. This gave him a proud feeling and it ensured that he wasn't forced to stand around with Beauregard.<p>

And, just when he was getting into the hang of things, he saw the white flag being raised at the fort. "Already?" he whispered to himself as the men cheered. It didn't seem like that long of a time to him. If he had to be truthful to himself, he'd say that he was expecting it to go on much longer than it actually did.

With a sigh of relief, though, he began congratulating his people. And, all he could think was- _At least no one died. They did very well in the bombardment...I know we can get through this war. Even if Beauregard is leading. He's still an ass, though._

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><p><em><em>**Ugh, I don't even know what I just put up here. Really, I'm no good with describing battles and whatnot. I should probably work on it more.**

**Historical notes, anyone? It'll be short since I'm just...tired. Yeah, let's go with tired.**

**The firing upon Fort Sumter lasted from April 12- April 14, though the Union did finally surrender the fort on the 13th. Bombardment started at 4:30 am on the 12th. I may not think Lincoln is the best president ever [in my little book, it's Washington], but this was a brilliant move he made- he let the Confederacy fire first. He knew war was coming and he thought that, should the Confederacy make the first move, others would be more willing to join the Union. THAT, my friends, was a good move on his part.**

**There's really not much to tell about Fort Sumter...the general of the Union at the time, Robert Anderson, refused to leave the fort as the South Carolina governor demanded him to, and, so, the Confederacy made the first move. **

**Beauregard was part French. He didn't learn English until he was 12. So, his way of speech in my story is probably inaccurate- I actually read he was quite charismatic. Was he as big of a dick as I made him seem? I dunno. When researching figures of history, you just get their BIOGRAPHY. You don't get their personality. So, in my fic, he sounds Southern and is a complete jerk. In real life, eh...probably not.**

**Worst historical notes ever? Why, yes indeed. Oh, also check out my review page- not for a review, but to read what _Howl's Owls_ wrote. She corrected me from the historical notes in my first chapter, and for that, I thank her. Indeed, I love it when people correct me- it means you guys are actually reading my crap! Ahem, if you wanna review while you're on the review page, go ahead and do so. Otherwise, sorry for the wait and the chapter that may/may not be awful. I haven't decided whether or not I like it...  
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	4. Bull Run

**Yes. Yes, look who is back in style. **

**I'm so sorry for taking this long to update _Divided_. I kinda lost motivation, and when I regained it back in July, I couldn't figure out how to write everything down properly. But...yes, here I am. I hope this chapter is up to par. It has a battle, obviously, and I'm no good when it comes to writing battle sequences.  
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**I probably wouldn't have finished this chapter as quickly as I did (I only started it the other day) without the help of two of my friends- _AlazneChan_, who listened to me ramble on about various things to put in my story for at least a good hour, and _No Pain No Gain_, who looked the first half of this over for me and gave me advice on how to write a battle sequence. And they both put up with me and my whole "I love the Civil War," attitude on a daily basis (and my attitude in general, dunno how they deal with me), so kudos to them! Thanks, guys! (Also, go follow them, they're both amazing authors.)  
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**Warnings: History, history, more history, and lots of notes. (Because despite having a battle, there is still hardly any violence. I'm trying, I swear I am.)  
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><p>To say that Confederate was nervous would have possibly been a tad bit of an understatement. He was just about to meet with one of the five brigadier generals, a man who was held to a high level of respect, even with Lincoln; Robert E. Lee. Or, as he should be called, General Lee.<p>

Confederate repeated the title to himself a few times before noticing that the capitol building was coming into view. Having traveled through Virginia for a good while now (during which he was either fast asleep, reading a book, or just enjoying the scenery), he was more than pleased to finally be in Richmond, the new heart of the Confederacy. Honestly, he thought Davis made a good choice in switching from Montgomery to Richmond. It was far more comfortable here than down in the excruciating heat of Alabama. The fact that Virginia was now a part of him, along with Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina, also helped fuel his sudden pride for the state, and all the states that had seceded from the Union.

Virginia would probably be his favorite, if his ride through the state was anything to go by.

Now that he was here, though, he realized that he was minutes away from speaking with a renowned war general. His anxiety just took a shot upwards and he hurried to straighten the hat upon his head and check the fancy suit that he had chosen to wear for such a meeting and make sure his glasses weren't crooked. He wanted to make a good first impression.  
>Of course, it was just his luck that he somehow managed to trip three times on the way to the parlor after climbing out of the carriage, resulting in a heavy blush rising to his face when he entered the room and saw Davis and Lee sitting on a pair of plush armchairs, both looking a bit impatient.<p>

"I'm here," was his rather pathetic greeting.

The men stood to greet him, Davis quickly offering a wide smile. "Don't be shy, Confederate. Come on over. I've been telling General Lee here about you."

He could only hope that Lee just heard good things. Then again, he really hadn't been around long enough for anyone to come up with bad things about him, had he? Feeling more confident with that thought in mind, he stepped further into the room, stopping before Davis to shake hands with him, then turned to Lee and did the same.

"Very pleased to meet you, er, Confederate," Lee said, a confused expression upon his face "Or, I suppose, that is what I'm supposed to call you?"

Confederate nodded vigorously. "Y-Yeah. I, I mean, yes sir. I do go by Confederate. I haven't got another name, I suppose." He straightened his waistcoat rather nervously, feeling all too awkward under the amount of doubt shining in Lee's eyes. He glanced at Davis, who gave him a nod of encouragement to continue talking. "I heard about your training of the Confederate soldiers. I'm really excited to see them perform well." Except he didn't sound excited, mainly because he wasn't sure what he could say to a rather popular general.

However, Lee's suspicious gaze was soon dropped in exchange for a soft smile. "Those men are very strong and able-bodied," he stated. "I've no fear that they surely will show us the true power of the Confederacy."

Confederate smiled and opened his mouth to say more, but then Davis cut in, proudly clapping Lee's shoulder. "I'm just thankful General Lee decided to resign from the Union in favor of the Confederacy."

"I'm fighting for my state, President Davis," the general gently reminded his friend. "I'm fighting for Virginia's rights, for the rights we truly deserve, the rights the Union refuses us."

Instantly, Confederate was filled with respect for this man. His eyes shone brightly as he gazed upon Lee, understanding now why he was desired by both the North and the South. Already knowledgeable on his time spent fighting in the Mexican War, Confederate was certain that Lee would bring about many victories for the Confederate soldiers. He had a keen mind, sharp senses, and a sense of justice that made Confederate feel stronger simply by being near to him.

This man really was the perfect choice for a general.

Davis, too, seemed pleased with the answer, for he then turned to Confederate, a smile still on his face. "You and the rest of the men did nice work at Fort Sumter," he stated, addressing his country rather than his general. "Beauregard told me good things about you."

Confederate kept his tongue in check, unsure as to whether or not he liked Beauregard. If he was saying good things about him, surely he must have been all bark and no bite. Perhaps it was the stress that caused him to act in such a rude way. "I hope he told you good stories about the other men," Confederate replied, choosing his words carefully. "They all did an excellent job. We were able to defeat the Union forces without much difficulty at all. They were strong, brave, and determined. I was very proud to work alongside them."

Lee nodded. "These men fight for what's right, and it shows."

"That's mainly why I called you here, Confederate," Davis said, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Won't you have a seat?"

Confederate nodded quickly, sitting down, and watched as the two humans sat down in front of him. "I thought you told me you just wanted me to meet Lee- I mean, General Lee." He tried ignoring Lee's amused smile, keeping his eyes dead-set on Davis (who, unfortunately, was also looking rather entertained by his country's pitiful fumbles).

"Well, yes, that was one of the reasons. The other was that I wanted to discuss with the both of you the developments of Lincoln's newest orders."

Lee looked interested. "I've been wondering about this," he said. "I understand that the Union's navy is probably far greater than ours could be, but there has to be some way we can slip past them." He rubbed at his temple. "Gaining allies in Europe could very well be our ticket to winning this war, but if we can't even get out of our own waters, then how will we ever get the help we need?"

Davis shook his head. "We'll be captured, no matter what we do. The Union won't recognize the fact that we're a nation, so they'll see it fit to punish our diplomats however they wish."

"If I go," Confederate said, quietly making his way back into the conversation. "If I go, perhaps one of the European nations will be more willing to fight for our behalf." The idea was growing on him, and he looked at the other two men with great fervor. "We already know the Union will capture whatever ship we send out to Europe. But I think, what with me being the ideal nation out of the two of us, the one the Europeans rely more heavily on, they might appeal to the Union to let us through, to let us create our own foreign relations.

"England is a leading world power. We all know this. Yet, they need our cotton. They like our way of life. They're far more into us than they are the North." He swallowed, certain that he was saying all the right things. Davis and Lee certainly seemed to agree, for they were nodding their heads thoughtfully.

Lee spoke first. "So we have England down as the first country we contact. I don't have any doubt that they'll be willing to fight for our cause. How about France, though?"

The president sighed at that. "France has always favored the North," he said. "I don't see any reason why they would switch sides now. Unless, of course, for our cotton." He glanced at Confederate, who raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't even think about France," the young country muttered. "Still, I think our best choice would be England. Perhaps if we become allies with them, France will soon follow."

"If we become allies with England, lad, we'll win independence for sure," Lee pointed out, a smile upon his face. "And now that that's settled, is there anything else we ought to discuss? I assume we know about the men Lincoln has called up to fight for him this past Independence Day."

Confederate groaned. "Why can't he just let us break away peacefully?" he asked. "I honestly wouldn't mind becoming friends with Union, but we need to be our own country, to have our own rights that they keep denying us. It really isn't any fair."

With a smirk, Davis shrugged his shoulders. "Well, rather than focus on matters that we can't stop, why don't we discuss movement of Union troops over lunch?" He stood, the two others following in his stead. "I'm sure Confederate especially is hungry. You've had a long trip over here, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes," Confederate heartily exclaimed, earning himself chuckles from his superiors.

At least he had the decency to laugh right along with them.

* * *

><p>Bullets flew all around Confederate, threatening each and every one of his men, managing to pierce through a good many of them. Shouts were heard all around the battlefield, mostly incomprehensible cries of fear, anger, or determination, but there were a few orders thrown in here and there, though they were difficult to hear over the noise of the battle.<p>

Confederate stepped over one of his fallen men, shooting at one of the Union troops with a skilled aim, taking a quick break to reload his musket once more, cursing his shaky hands as he fumbled with the bullets. Not for the first time, he found himself both angry and scared, having already been faced with the prospect of losing in this battle. Fortunately for him and the rest of his army, his generals had called for reinforcements before they had lost what ground they had.

**X.X.X.X.X**

_"Colonel Evans!" Confederate called out, racing towards the man with great haste, his breath coming out in short, painful gasps. "Imboden is holding off the Union to allow us to regroup, but we won't last long when we have this small army." He took a quick glance around him towards their disorganized forces, blue eyes wide behind his glasses. _

_Evans nodded, not even bothering to look at Confederate. Instead, he pointed across the hill. "Beauregard and Johnston will be here shortly," he replied gruffly. "Right now, we just need to trust in Imboden's ability to defend our lines and try and regroup. I think Bartow is getting his men under control, thank God for that."_

_Confederate winced as another loud blast tore through the already noisy air, though he was easily able to tell that it was from one of their own 6-pounder guns. "How long will it take for Beauregard and Johnston to arrive?" the young nation asked, anxiety building up inside. "The Union forces could attack at any minute now, even with our defensive guns. They have more men then we do." _

_"Not for long," Evans grunted. "Ah, and speak of the Devil." Ignoring Confederate's confused stare, he strode over to the arrivals on horseback, giving them both a salute. "About time you two showed up," he said. "We're in high need of some help."_

_Even Confederate gave a sigh of relief as the two men unmounted their horses. "General Beauregard," he greeted, also stepping forward and managing to keep his voice neutral. "And General Johnston. It's nice to see the both of you." Hell, at this point, even the most unfriendly face helping for their cause was a great blessing. Plus, Beauregard looked to be much more at ease here than he did at Fort Sumter. _

_"Nice seeing you guys alive," Beauregard responded. "I heard the Union delivered quite the surprise attack on the forces." Taking a look around at the disorderly men, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We have reinforcements with us and General Jackson is coming up shortly with the Virginia brigade."_

_"Don't let them cut through the lines, though," Johnston warned. "They mean to break us and make their way to the capitol building. Once that's taken, the Confederacy could cease to exist as we know it."_

_Confederate swallowed. "Yes, we know. We're doing our best."_

_"Do more than your best," Beauregard said. "I'm sure you wouldn't like to go down this quickly."_

_Meeting Beauregard's gaze with steely eyes, Confederate responded, "I do not intend to be defeated like this. The Union thinks I'll go down quickly. They think we're just a bunch of rebellious Southerners that they will quickly be able to put an end to. Well, we're not, and we're going to show them as much."_

_Johnston gave a small smile, and even Beauregard seemed pleased. "Well, instead of discussing our victory, how about we start actually bringing it into action. Evans, meet up with Bartow and Bee to regroup. Once General Jackson arrives, I expect us to be ready to launch a counterattack. The longer we stay up on this hill, the longer the Union troops have to also receive a dose of reinforcements." _

_Evans saluted once more before going off to do as he was told. Confederate stayed by the side of the two generals, opting instead to help plan the counterattack rather than gather the forces. "Evans and I were just talking about the Union's mistake of not striking at us right now. Despite the guns, I think they're in a rather good position to bring us down."_

_"He's bombarding us with his batteries instead," Beauregard pointed out. "Well, it's his loss and it's our gain. We'll just use his inability to strike as an advantage."_

_"Or as a survival method," Confederate mumbled, earning himself a chuckle from Johnston._

_Beauregard raised his eyebrows and promptly ignored Confederate. "When Jackson does arrive, along with Hampton and Stuart, we're going to set up his artillery guns on the crest of the hill. The position should also be an advantage for us."_

_"With so many reinforcements, I expect we'll have the Union retreating by tonight," Confederate said._

_"Don't get too confident," Johnston warned. "It might take longer than you think to win this battle." _

_Confederate shrugged, still undeterred from being optimistic. Besides, they were still holding strong. A glance around him showed that Evans, Bartow, and Bee had already rounded up most of the troops and were now waiting for the influx of troops that would be arriving. _

_"Even if it does take longer," Confederate responded. "I still know we'll win."_

**X.X.X.X.X**

He was brought back from his thoughts with a loud yell from his troops, glancing over to see the Union guns now in control of the Confederacy. He noticed with amazement that his men were clad in blue uniforms, making them look much more like their enemies. Feeling lifted by their brilliance and spirit, he turned toward General Jackson, who was fighting bravely just a few feet away. "General!" he cried out, waving his hands and gesturing over to the infantry members. "We got their guns!"

Sure enough, Jackson seemed lifted by their new positions. "Tell them to turn it on 11th New York!" he yelled out. "Send Stuart's cavalry up to help as well!" With that, he disappeared into the thick of the battle, leaving Confederate to issue orders, which he did so quickly and very effectively.

In no time at all, the Union regiment they were firing upon was scattered, the men either dead or retreating. "Keep it up!" he exclaimed to the soldiers, glancing to see more guns in Confederate control. "This is certainly changing the tide of the battle, isn't it?" A survey around the battlefield showed him that they were steadily pushing the Union troops back off of Henry House Hill, and with Beauregard's command of an attack along the entire line, it seemed that the Union was so close to retreating.

And then they suddenly did. He could hear the orders to retreat over the loud yells the Confederate was giving with each attack they made. He could see the lines break as the northern men began running in a disorderly fashion up to the Bull Run crossings.

Confederate couldn't help but smile at their confusion.

"Take your troops and chase them," he ordered the soldiers, mounting his horse. "Capture as many Union men as possible. I'm going to speak with Beauregard." He galloped away quickly, not bothering to see if the soldiers would obey his order. He was more intent on delivering a final blow to the retreating Union army.

"General Beauregard!" he called out, bringing his horse to a standstill when he was in front of the man. "What is our next or-" He shut his mouth when he noticed President Davis on horseback right beside Beauregard, a displeased expression on his face.

"His next order is to take advantage of this situation and pursue the Union troops," the president snapped at Beauregard. "And I've already told him twice."

"When did you get here, President?" Confederate asked in surprise.

"Just in time to see the enemy retreating, and just in time to order an interception." A pointed glare was sent to Beauregard, who ignored it.

"Our troops are just as disorderly as theirs," he explained calmly. "I don't want to risk losing our entire army. They might still be able to attack us if we send more men after them." Before either Davis or Confederate could respond, he held up a hand for silence. "Johnston also agrees, though he has sent out Bonham and Longstreet's brigades to try and cut the Union off from the right flank."

"Just those two won't be enough," Davis argued. "I'm urging you, General Beauregard, I think it would be in our best interest to inter-"

Beauregard, however, shook his head. "I heard what you think, and please believe me when I say that I considered it, President, but I can't afford to do such a thing. Now, if you two will excuse me, I'm going to go check on the other regiments down below." With a quick nod toward Davis, Beauregard's horse trotted back down the hill, leaving Confederate staring after him in irritation.

With a glance at Davis, he noticed his president must have felt the same way. "Perhaps he's right," Confederate cautiously muttered. "It will take a good while to regroup this combined army. By the time we do that, the Union troops could be far out of Virginia."

Davis sighed, looking at Confederate. "How many of our commanders have been killed?" he asked, resigned to the fate that they wouldn't crush the Union army today.

"Colonel Bartow is all that I know of," Confederate responded, more than happy to change the subject. He didn't wish to get into an argument, not so soon after the battle. "General Bee was wounded. I heard he probably won't make it."

The president bit his lip, gazing across the battlefield at wounded, dying, or lifeless men. "Such is the cruel fate of war," he whispered softly. "One would assume that humans would be above fighting, above resorting to violence to carry out what needs to be done."

"But we're doing it for our people," Confederate added. "We're protecting the rights of our citizens. Sometimes, fighting is necessary to accomplish our goals."

Davis chuckled, though it was without much humor. "You're so young, yet you're still so very bright." He motioned with his head. "Come. Let's meet up with the other generals. It was a victory for us, yes, but we can't ever let our guard down in war."

War. The very thought of war was so scary, so threatening, and so close. "I wonder if my entire existence will be plagued with war," Confederate joked, following Davis down the hill. "That won't be a very fun life."

"I assure you, it won't be," Davis replied. "Like you so confidently state time and time again, the Confederacy will win and then you will be free to make peace with every nation in the world if you so choose."

"If the people so choose," Confederate corrected. "I'm only alive by their will for me to be."

"Yes." Davis smiled. "Then I suppose you don't have to worry about dying."

* * *

><p><strong>If the formatting is fucked up, I blame this site.<strong>

**History notes, anyone? I say yes. There's a lot in there that I didn't explain, so for the more curious souls out there, venture no farther than what I have below.  
><strong>

**Robert E. Lee was quite an amazing general. He started out as an officer in the Corps of Engineers, where he checked over the defenses and whatnot. He was awesome in the Mexican-American war, however, and raised to the position of Colonel. From there, he trained a bunch of men at West Point (the military academy he graduated from) before putting down John Brown's raid at Harper's Ferry. Then, Lincoln wanted him for his army, but Lee's all, "Virgina seceded and my heart lies with my state, so I'm gonna go down there." And he did, huzzah huzzah. He became the general of the Confederate Army, though he didn't fight until September. There are some very interesting stories out there about Lee. For example, he rescued a dog drowning in the water and named her Dart. Dart and his cat ate from the same bowl, although the cat would eat first (because it would smack Dart's face if Dart tried eating with it). Dart had puppies, and they gave all away except for one, named Spec. Apparently, when Lee was in Mexico, Spec became ill and Lee wrote home saying, "Tell him I wish he was here with me." I mainly like Lee because he had kitties and loved his kitties, and I can totally see him chilling with his cats. Awesome. Anyway, I tried making Lee just like how I read about him. I picture him as he was portrayed in the movie Gettysburg, though, since that seemed like a pretty accurate portrayal.  
><strong>

**Richmond, Virgina, was the capital of the Confederacy after Virgina joined them. Before then, it had been Montgomery, Alabama. Think about how hot that must have been, egad. Virgina was a far better choice. Everything's in Virgina, man.  
><strong>

**The Anaconda Plan was a proclamation issued out by Lincoln that the Union would create a blockade around the Confederacy, cutting off their access to the sea. They knew the Confederate wanted allies, and they knew England might possibly become their ally, so they were trying to stop that as best they could.  
><strong>

**England relied heavily on the South's cotton. More English sympathized with the Confederacy than they did the Union. I also read, in an old Harper's Weekly written back in 1862, that the English sided with the Confederacy for two reasons- one, they felt the North was just trying to gain more and more power while the South just wanted independence (um, American Revolution, anyone?) and, two, why the hell would they go to war with the 8,000,000 living in the South (not that they WOULD have gone to war, since the South was too busy fighting it's own war, but whatever). However, I doubt the article, since it seems very, VERY biased towards the North, but whatevs.  
><strong>

**The movement of Union troops is in regards to Union response to Ft. Sumter. They were all, "Rebel scum, let us just take their capital and be done with it!" So they started moving down to Virgina, which leads us into the First Battle of Bull Run.  
><strong>

**The First Battle of Bull Run was, obviously, a Confederate victory. I'm so not going to go over the little details in this. There's a lot. I'm gonna try and summarize it to the best of my abilities. So, General McDowell was sent by Lincoln (more like "urged", actually, not sent) to attack the Confederate troops in northern Virgina on July 21st, 1861. McDowell was kinda unorganized, and everything was very complicated on his end, which gave the Confederate forces enough time to block their attack. As the day went on, the Confederate forces were drawn back on Henry House Hill. Because McDowell didn't immediately press his advantage and attack, the Confederacy was able to regroup, get reinforcements from other generals (Thomas Jackson, for one), and finally force the Union to retreat.  
><strong>

**Thomas Jackson also earns the name "Stonewall" Jackson in this battle, courtesy of General Bee; "There is Jackson standing like a stone wall. Let us determine to die here, and we will conquer. Rally behind the Virginians." Of course, whether it was meant as an insult or a compliment is still debated. I mean, the guy was shot just minutes after saying that, then died the next day.  
><strong>

**The "rebel yell" was used for the first time here after Jackson told the 4th Virgina infantry to "Reserve your fire until they come within 50 yards! Then fire and give them the bayonet! And when you charge, yell like furies!" And yell they did. Google it.  
><strong>

**Davis urged for interception of the Union troops but Beauregard refused, saying they weren't organized enough, that they were just as disorderly as the Union troops. And Davis kept urging, but Beauregard and Johnston were all, "NO!"  
><strong>

**Notes, yay! If you still need something to be explained, shoot me up a PM. If I was inaccurate (heaven forbid, I spent hours studying up), shoot me a PM. I strive to deliver only the best. REVIEWS ARE LOVE! I live off those things. They're my food. Om nom nom nom.  
><strong>


	5. All Alone

**wat am i really five months late haha sorry.**

**Seriously, I am. This story doesn't want to be written like I want to write it, it seems. However, I have a better schedule now set-up for myself, in which annoying yodel music plays if I don't insert a story by the set amount of time. Go technology.**

_**Anon Reviewers:**_

_**Guest-**_**You're a descendant of Lee? Oh, man, you awesome possum, you. :3 I wanna be, but I've no idea about my family tree. :'D  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: is that some angst i see there**

* * *

><p>Confederate first heard about the capture of the diplomats from a newsletter.<p>

Though his top priority was getting his men safely back to Europe, he still couldn't help but ball the newspaper up in his fist as he faced the president.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "This is, what, a few days after the fact?" He glared at Davis, who stared calmly back. "You knew right from the beginning about this. You're the president, for heavens' sakes, and I'm your goddamn _country_." He gritted his teeth. "I think I have the right to know such things about my own _people_."

Davis sighed, sitting back down at his desk. "Look, Confederate, I was meaning to tell you. I just lost track of things. It's been busy around here."

"Sure it has, it's been busy everywhere," Confederate snapped. "You just can't lose track of things that are this important, though!" He himself wasn't fully keeping up with everything. After all, so many battles had been fought in such a short amount of his time being alive, and he just wanted everything to be over with. He wanted to be recognized by his brother (was his northern half a brother, or just an enemy?) and start on building his nation to stand alongside the other large nations.

But _this_ was certainly something that he couldn't just let go because of his reluctance to continue with the fighting. _This_ was uncalled for, even more so since he didn't know until that moment.

Looking tiredly at the Confederacy, Davis shrugged. "I'm not quite sure what you wish for me to say, Confederate." He gestured towards the crumbled newspaper in the young country's hand. "The Union has captured two of our diplomats who were headed for England. You've read it in the paper."

"Of _course_ I've read it in the paper," Confederate snapped, almost feeling guilty when he saw the president wince. Almost, but not quite. "_Everyone's_ read it in the paper. How else would I have come to you with such complaints?" He straightened with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not telling me these things, President! And don't you dare say I can't handle it, because I _can_." His glare turned even colder. "I've already been killing men out on the battlefield, sir, men that I'd much rather live peacefully beside, and I'll be damned if you tell me that I'm unable to handle such important information!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Davis looking pained and Confederate looking infuriated.

The older man broke the silence. "Yes, well, you are quite correct. I...I do apologize for my conduct. I haven't been very trusting of you, I suppose." He offered a shaky smile. "Might we discuss this in a more civil manner, then, as I should have done from the beginning?"

Confederate was tempted to refuse such a thing, but then realized that he needed the information. Besides, he was willing to forgive this time. It was true that Davis had on quite the load, and Confederate felt slightly ashamed for acting the way he did. "Um, yes. We may." He sat down in the chair across from Davis, clearing at his throat. "Apology accepted, sir. And I, myself, apologize for barging in and-"

Before he could say anymore, the president waved him off. "No, you most certainly have nothing to be sorry for. After all, I did have it coming, did I not?" He smiled once more, and, this time, Confederate smiled back. "Right, where should I start...? I suppose you got the gist of the article, yes?"

Confederate nodded. "Yeah. I mean, all it says is our two diplomats were captured by the Union and Lincoln refuses to release them."

Davis hummed, nodding his head. "And England is demanding for their release." When Confederate's head shot up in surprise, the president swallowed nervously. "I don't believe the newspaper had anything about that, then?"

"I think I would have remembered," Confederate said, running his fingers through his hair. "But, wait, this is excellent news!" His shock and initial disappointment were thrown aside as he stood from his chair. "If _England_ is demanding for their release, then surely he's on our side!"

"That's what our mindset is," Davis responded with a chuckle. "Not just on our side, though; he views us as an individual nation. If he believes we have the right to diplomats, he believes we are, in fact, the Confederate States of America."

Confederate's eyes gleamed with excitement. "And is he negotiating, or just demanding?"

"Threatening, honestly," Davis said, grinning widely then at Confederate's expression. "He's threatening to engage in war with the Union if our diplomats aren't released."

"And Lincoln _still_ refuses?" Confederate asked. "I mean, England is this huge empire! I know we've won against him twice before, but that was when we were _one_, when both the north and the south worked together to ward him off, and we also had help from other countries. If England goes to war again, who's going to help the Union? Not us, obviously, since England is fighting on our behalf. I don't think France would, either, since they rely more heavily on our exports than they do of the north's. I can't think of any other countries who would be strong or brave enough to come to the aid of a small nation fighting two wars at once." He shook his head in amazement. "President Davis, if England goes to _war_, we've already won! Lincoln and the Union would just have to give up right here and now!"

Davis looked amused. "Patience, Confederate," he chided. "England has yet to carry out their threats. I do believe they will should Lincoln not obey their commands, but that isn't _now_. We must wait and see what will happen."

As it was, though, Confederate wasn't very fond of waiting. He wanted action; he had always wanted action. Sitting back and letting life carry on wasn't exactly his way of doing things. Staring into Davis' eyes, though, he realized it was the _only_ way of doing things at the current moment. Acting might just make everything fall to pieces. "Right," he muttered with a sigh, sitting back in his chair. "Right. I'll...I'll wait. Promise. But only until England gives his final answer. Then, no matter what it is, I'll make a move.

"Just as I would expect you to," Davis responded. "And no doubt it'll be a brilliant move."

"That's 'cause you would order it." Confederate grinned fondly at the president. "I just carry out your plans, sir."

However, Davis shook his head. "No," he argued. "No, I deliver to you the message of the people, and you carry it out."

"_Everyone_ carries it out, Mr. President." Confederate rolled his eyes, still looking cheerful. "Running a nation isn't a one-man job. And being a nation isn't, either. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for everyone; people, government, nature in general." He shrugged. "Being a nation who accomplishes every task on his own...I don't believe that's being a nation at all."

Davis' thoughtful smile assured Confederate that he wasn't alone in that belief.

* * *

><p>"I'm not used to sea-travel," became the most spoken phrase in Confederate's vocabulary for nearly an two entire weeks.<p>

Lincoln finally _did_ release the diplomats (Confederate figured that the threat of England was far too much for the north to handle), and they were continuing on their mission to gain allies in their struggle for peace. Confederate, excited to meet with other nations, had agreed to come along, but he was now regretting that decision. His stomach kept turning, and everything he ate just came right back up again. He spent more time hanging over the edge of the boat then doing anything else, and the crew members were rightfully worried.

"President Davis told us to look after you at all costs," one of the younger men said, awkwardly giving Confederate's back a comforting pat. "He wouldn't be much pleased with us if you died, I don't think."

Confederate would have laughed if he wasn't trying to keep his face straight so as to not be sick once more. "Urgh, is he still trying to baby me?" he mumbled. "Good Lord, sir, I can't die just from being a tad ill."

The crewman was uncertain. "I've seen it before, though."

"Yes, I've seen it, too."

"I'm afraid you might suffer the same fate."

"I won't," Confederate assured. "I can't die from a simple illness like this." He wasn't about to tell a young man that he was standing in the presence of an immortal country who was unable to actually die.

Well, he wouldn't die if he could at least put the war to a stalemate. Winning would be nice, but he just wanted to convince the Union to allow him and his people to live in peace.

The man scratched at his neck. "It could turn into more than a simple illness," he muttered, obviously uncomfortable.

Confederate opened his eyes and eyed the man carefully, keeping a hand over his forehead. "How old are you?" he slowly asked, noticing the still-soft cheeks and the clean-cut hair. The boy couldn't have been older than eighteen.

His suspicions were proven true. "Not a day below fifteen."

"And how about a day above?"

The boy opened his mouth, then closed it just as quickly, resembling one of the fish Confederate remembered seeing. His stomach churned, but he pressed on. "A few weeks, perhaps? So, you _are_ fifteen, are you?"

Rather reluctantly, the boy gave a nod, clearing his throat and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn trousers. "I'm an apprentice. My father wanted me to become a sailor."

"What do you want?"

"Pardon?" the boy blinked, eyes wide as he gazed upon his country.

"What do you want out of life?" Confederate asked again, expanding on his question. "Would you like to be a lawyer? How about a doctor? Or perhaps you're more interested in a quiet life as a reverend of a local church."

The boy looked confused. "I-I'd like to be a sailor, of course!"

Confederate smiled, though it was small and gentle, as he still felt a little too ill to do anything else. "Is this because your father wishes for you to become a sailor, or because _you_ wish to become a sailor?"

"We-Well...a little of both, I assume." When the boy noticed Confederate's raised eyebrows, he looked sheepish. "Okay, it's more his idea than mine. But I don't care, honestly. It's been exciting so far, seeing new places and meeting new people. I suppose I could continue forward with it."

"Just suppose?"

With a sigh, the boy shook his head. "Look, sir, I mean you no offense, but I don't think you're in any position to be telling me off. You're the one who can't even seem to keep his own lunch down."

Confederate had to admit that the boy had a point. "Breakfast," he still felt like correcting. "Can't keep my breakfast down. Couldn't even eat lunch." He put a hand over his mouth, then held up his free hand. "'Scuse me," he burped out, quickly standing up and spinning so his body was hanging over the side of the ship.

Then he threw up his breakfast.

* * *

><p>The very first thing England had asked him when they sat down for a discussion was, "I trust your journey over here was fine?"<p>

Confederate stared at him for a few seconds before smiling in amusement. "It was lovely," he lied, folding his hands in his laps. His palms were sweating in anticipation. _He _was sweating in anticipation. He had to prove that he was worth England's time. He had to prove that his nation was worth helping. If he couldn't get England on his side, he couldn't get anyone on his side.

"I'm glad," England responded, his large eyebrows rising slightly at Confederate's expression. "You don't have to act so high-strung, lad. I won't bite you."

"Ah," Confederate intelligently replied.

"Honestly." England sipped at his tea, green eyes scrutinizing the young country in front of him. "Currently, I've no quarrel with you."

Confederate blinked. "Um, currently?"

The island nation across from him rolled his eyes in a very dignified manner. Confederate almost wanted to take notes. "I've fought with your country in the past, I hope you realize. The, er, Revolutionary War-" Confederate could see the small grimace that appeared on the elder's face. "-and that other war, whatever it is you chose to-"

"War of 1812?" helpfully supplied Confederate.

England's eyebrows furrowed down.

"Yes," he mused. "Yes, War of 1812. Creative name."

"It's war. Why should we bother with creativity?"

Confederate could have sworn that England was about to scold him, but the man's face looked more thoughtful than anything. "You know, you might have a point there," he stated. "War isn't about creative names or flashy weapons. War is simply about killing and destroying and conquering." He gave a sad smile, eyes fixed upon the younger of the two. "I'm sorry you were born into it, but I must admit that I know the feeling."

"Do you?" Confederate would give anything to have someone know what he was going through.

Chucking, England nodded, setting his tea back on the expensive-looking china plate. "Yes. I, too, was practically born in war. My childhood wasn't complete, it seemed, unless I was taken over, fought over, kicked aside...you know, the usual."

Confederate didn't know that would be usual, so he kept his mouth shut and listened to England speak.

"I grew up with fighting. It's all I've known. And when I finally thought I'd have someone to take me away from all the fighting, someone to show me true love, he...he turned away." His stare glazed over, seeing the far past and all the joys that had come in those times. "We shared so many fond memories together, and I thought we'd never grow apart. I thought he'd stay mine and I'd stay his."

Feeling uncomfortable, Confederate shifted in his seat.

"But, oh, goodness." England laughed. "I saw he was growing and I refused to let him go. I refused to let that, that adorable boy be taken over by a smart, strong, outspoken man. In my haste to bring him close to me once again, I managed to tear the veil between us even more so, until he one day let it rip into shreds."

Confederate swallowed. "Do you regret it?" he asked.

England hummed, shrugging his shoulders. "I regret how it all turned out," he responded. "I regret losing. And, yet, I also regret being the one to bring it to that point." He gave a smug smirk, though his words were anything but smug. "I do acknowledge the fact that it's my fault."

"Oh."

Confederate didn't know what else to say to that.

"Lad, I'm honestly tired of fighting against America. With the two of you split as you are, I already know I could beat him. Any country could beat him. He's weakened, fighting a war at home, and it would be a simple matter to swoop in and defeat him."

"Really?" Confederate felt his heart hammer in his chest. "Wo-Wouldn't it, now? See, you would be the most excellent asset to this fight. You're able to help us win in a matter of months, and then I could actually beco-"

"My answer is no."

Confederate stopped mid-sentence, his mouth still open as he stared at England. "You- what?" He shook his head, horror gripping at his heart. "N-No, please don't say that, we really need-"

England cleared his throat. "Your diplomats are being told the same thing as we speak, just so there's no confusion on anyone's part."

"England, please-"

"I suggest you stop begging. It was never something America did."

"I'm not America!" Confederate screeched, shooting up from his chair and slamming his hands on the table. "I'm the Confederate States of America! I am a separate and equal nation who is being attacked by a nation who is supposed to be my brother!" He pounded his fist down again for good measure, and felt a little burst of sadistic pride when England flinched. "I demand the same amount of respect you're giving to, to _him_! I demand for aid and assistance!"

England composed himself and stared coldly at Confederate. "You have no right to demand anything from me," he hissed. "I will not help you, Confederate. I am not sending my men off to die for _you_."

Confederate tried to hold back a whimper, but it escaped his lips anyway. England looked curious. "Are you going to cry?" he asked, seeming unconcerned.

It was slowly beginning to dawn on Confederate. "You still love him."

"Par-pardon?"

"America. You still love him. And you hate me, because I'm also him." He took in England's widening gaze and realized he was correct in his assumptions. "You're not helping me because I _am_ him, but you want the one with his name."

England said nothing.

Bending over slightly to be more level with England, Confederate decided to try once more. "England, please. I know I don't have his name, but look, it's _me_, it's..._I'm_ the nation you raised. I know I am. I'm the one who believes in states rights and freedoms. _I'm_ not the one being a tyrant and locking up innocent people! I've always been against such things, and now look! Look what America's become, and look at _me_, the colony who fought against you for rights. Am I not the one you love?"

"Don't you _dare_, Confederate," England snapped, also standing. "Don't you dare tell me such things! I know the child I love, and he isn't you." He pointed at the door, narrowing his eyes. "I will not help you. I believe in your cause, but do not confuse me in such a manner. The best country will win, Confederate, and if it is you, you have all of my happiness, but for now, I do not wish to have anything more to do with this goddamn war. Now, _leave_."

Confederate clenched his fists by his side, but rather than continue to argue, he followed England's orders. The island nation had his mind made up, and there wasn't any changing it. He'd just have to get used to fighting such a battle alone. He was strong, after all; he could handle it.

Then why couldn't he even stop himself from falling down in the narrow hallway and bursting into tears?

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><p><strong>oh my gosh that was angst wasn't it or at least me trying to write angst i apologize.<br>**

**Notes? I promise, it won't be nearly as long as it was last time:**

**The Trent Affair**** (AKA the Mason and Slidell Affair) was basically how I explained it to be in the story; James Mason and John Slidell were envoys to England and France, and the Union captured them and held them captive. England was royally pissed about it (royally, get it, england is a monarchy and people are royal, look at me go) and demanded that England release the prisoners and issue an apology. The US was rallied together to go to war against England, but Lincoln refused to do so (England was the leading world power at this time). England, in response to Lincoln's, like, refusal to do _anything_, strengthened its forces in Canada and the Atlantic. Finally, not wishing to go to war, Lincoln released the prisoners, but never issued a formal apology. (Bad Lincoln, you really do suck.) The envoys never accomplished their goals. **

**Confederate,**** seasick?**** Yeah, I guess it's a headcanon of mine. I have plausible reasons, though. The Confederacy was under the Anaconda Plan for so long that they didn't get much time to, you know, explore the seas. Trading was scarce, and they kept to their waters. Confederate, as a person, would have probably been more comfortable with land battles, so when he had to travel far on a ship, he became sick.**

**Clement Vallandigham is going to be the most important name you'll ever hear. He hasn't been mentioned yet, and I'm not sure if he will or not, but he is probably the most famous man to be imprisoned by Lincoln (save for Francis Key Howard). Why was he imprisoned? He was a northerner who sympathized with the South (a Copperhead). Basically, he spoke out against the US government, and was imprisoned, then deported. Uh-huh. Lincoln loves equality. **

**Annnnd, that's about as far as I can go without inserting my personal opinions on certain matters (which I do anyway). I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave a review!**


	6. Raising Morale

**I promise you guys one thing: this sucks.**

**Warnings: suckish sucking stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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><p>"Is he awake?"<p>

Confederate heard the voices outside his door, but he refused to move from his spot to answer for himself. He clutched at the white bedsheets instead, squeezing his eyes shut and _waiting_ for sleep to come, sleep that had escaped him for many days.

He couldn't sleep when he was hurting this much.

"No, he's still asleep," came Davis' voice, and Confederate had to hold back a laugh.

Still asleep. Right.

"So despite not being in the actual battles, he can still feel the pain of them," the first voice mused, and finally Confederate recognized it to belong to Alexander Stephens, who was serving as the vice-president of the Confederacy. He hadn't met with the man often, but he had heard plenty of stories from Davis. The two of them didn't get along so well.

Confederate would have smiled at their silly strife if his entire body didn't ache so much.

"I suppose so," Davis responded. "I'm not sure the extent of his injuries, but to hole him up for four days? It must really be hurting him."

"Well, I noticed he had been rather upset about England's refusal to help us." Confederate heard Stephens walking around. "That also might have something to do with it."

Oh, did it ever. Confederate winced when Stephens mention England. They had been so close to gaining a considerable amount of military assistance. They had been so close in being able to _win_, for with England on their side, there was no possible way they would have lost. And then everything fell apart. Confederate's hopes and dreams fell apart, shattered by the cruel dose of reality.

He had never felt so alone.

"He'll be better soon," Davis said. "He's a strong, young lad, and I have the utmost faith in him."

"That makes one of us," Stephens muttered, and Confederate's eyes flew open in surprise. Since when did Stephens not have faith in him? The guy was serious and grumpy, sure, but he was also _vice president_. There had to be some inkling of faith and respect there.

Davis, too, seemed shocked. "What ever do you mean, Stephens?"

"I mean just that. Look here; as a human, Confederate is very strong and very brave, and I have faith in him. In the _human_. In the country, though, he's weak. Not on account of our army. Heavens no, I've never seen a stronger army than the one we have right now. No, he's weak because his president can't make the strategic choices he needs to become strong."

It was silent for a few minutes, and Confederate resisted the urge to run out and pummel Stephens. How _dare_ he? How dare he try and lay the blame on Davis' shoulders? President Davis had been nothing but kind since Confederate knew him, and to say otherwise was just plain ridiculous.

Rather than being able to come to his president's rescue, though, Davis seemed to make his own rescue. "I understand you don't appreciate the way I do things around here," he calmly said. "However, that has nothing to do with the Confederacy's success. The wartime measures that-"

"Oh, wartime measures," Stephens grumbled. "_Lincoln_ is enacting wartime measures in his own country, and do you know how much Confederate disagrees with _that_? What makes you think he appreciates how you're doing the exact same thing?"

"It's of a lesser extent-" Davis started, and even Confederate could tell just how weak it all sounded.

"Please don't give me that." Stephens sighed. "Never mind. We shouldn't even be arguing at the moment. Just make sure Confederate wakes sooner than later, especially since we're sending the _Virginia_ out soon. I do think he'll wake up when he is aware of that."

Confederate listened to the footsteps head down the hallway before closing his eyes again and pulling the sheets up on his face, frowning into his pillow.

He didn't know what he'd appreciate anymore.

He didn't know what he wanted anymore.

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><p>It was another two days before Confederate was able to get up from bed. Well, less of able, and more of motivated. England's refusal to help had wounded his pride and caused great fear to gather, and with the loss of both Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, Confederate had also been in pain. He had expected to lose a few battles, sure, but not so soon, and not to so great of an extent. Or, was it great? He wasn't sure of the norms of battles, and no one would tell him.<p>

They said it was because they didn't know, because this war was different, but Confederate had the sinking suspicion that they were still babying him. Davis, especially. Davis was acting as if he couldn't handle anything. Davis was keeping all bad news from him, and from the rest of the people. Whenever someone _dared_ to blast his name, Davis was always there to rescue him.

The thing was, though, that Confederate didn't _need_ rescuing. He wanted to listen to his citizens, to every single one of them, to know what they wanted him to do. Davis, on the other hand, wanted him to get past the war before bringing in any of the Confederate's flaws.

"Wartime measures," the president said when confronted about it. "I need to make sure that the people are in good morale during this time. Negative words might bring you down."

Confederate understood his point, but it still didn't make him feel any better. "With all due respect, sir, these are more of my people than they are yours. I'd like for them to be able to speak their mind. And if that means they spout negativity, then let them spout it. They deserve to have freedom of speech, though. Isn't that what we're about? Freedom?"

They were walking along the docks, Confederate with a very slight limp. The recent battles hadn't put so much of a toll on him; only his left leg suffered small wounds of some sort, and that was more of an ache than anything else. The major reason he had been bedridden for a lengthier time than needed wasn't any physical wound that would heal over time and good measure.

Psychologically, everything was taking a toll on him. The thoughts played in his mind, the thoughts of, w_hat if we might lose, what_ _if I die off, what if, what if, what if?_ England had sent everything over the edge, had finally made him truly doubt his recent confidence.

He had never doubted before. That scared him.

Sidestepping some of the more local fishermen, Davis glanced over at Confederacy, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I suppose," he mumbled. "Though we must take into account our strength. Your strength, to be exact."

Remembering earlier what the vice-president had said, Confederate frowned. "If you don't believe I'm strong enough to handle what other people might have to say-"

"No, nothing of the sort!" Davis assured. "I simply meant that the Union outnumbers us by a considerable amount, both in men and in resources. As much as we'd both like to believe otherwise, we're not exactly in a position to fight off the superior forces of Lincoln and his army."

"If we have good morale, we are."

Davis raised an eyebrow. "Exactly."

Realizing his point, Confederate sighed, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. "No, no, that's_ not '_exactly', Mr. President, sir. It really isn't. I...I'm not so sure...I mean, I don't think..." He groaned.

With a comforting smile, Davis patted Confederate's back. "Why don't we take our minds off of this whole matter for a few minutes?" he asked. "I have something far more important to show you."

They turned a few corners, and within minutes, Confederate had his gaze set upon something huge, something he hadn't seen fully completed before.

"Is this...?"

"The _CSS Virginia_," Davis responded, a large smile coming across his face. "I...I figured you'd wish to see her complete before she went out in naval battles." He paused, then added, "Mostly complete. She still needs some work done."

Confederate also wanted to see those naval battles, but since it was clearly obvious he wasn't going to be riding in a boat anytime soon, he supposed he could make due with what he had given to him.

"Good Lord," he whispered.

"Well, I do believe it's by the grace of the Lord that this was finished."

Confederate shot Davis a grin, forgetting their past argument. "It sure does look that way, does it not? I just...I can't believe she's nearly finished."

He had heard about the construction of the _CSS Virginia_ earlier on. Davis explained it all to him and, at the time, America was certain he wanted to ride in it. Now, though, he was quite content with staring at it from afar, marveling in its power, in awe of its obvious strength.

Davis rested a hand upon the nation's shoulder, awkwardly moving to stand closer beside him. "The Union, we've heard, have finished their ironclad before we did," he stated. "We started first, as you very well know, but, as I've mentioned before, they overpower us in resources. We've been trying to keep up with both weaponry, food, clothes, and whatever else we need to properly govern ourselves separately."

Confederate knew all of that, and despite the fact he wished they had more men and more materials, he figured what they had right then was going to be good enough. They finished the warship, and that was all that mattered.

"Well, once she goes up against the Union, they're going to have quite a difficult time fighting back," he said, confident in the ship's ability to induce destruction. "I don't care if their ironclad is larger or better; we have something the Union will never have."

Turning his gaze from the ship, Davis raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"Southerners." Confederate beamed brightly, then gestured at the men running about all around them. "Southern men, Southern women; Southerners. We've had a long history of strength, and we always have the ability to do whatever we put our minds to. Being the embodiment of the South is a blessing, for I can feel just how much resolve each and every citizen down here has. They refuse to give up, refuse to surrender, refuse to comply to Lincoln's rule." His eyes shone brightly as he gazed out upon the people, the normal humans that were just caught up in this awful war, and he felt a burst of pride run through his veins.

"President Davis?" he continued. "I...I could never ask for a better country to run."

Davis looked over at him, smiling just slightly. "I couldn't, either," he responded in a murmur. "You've done well, Confederate. You really have."

Losing his seriousness, Confederate laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, shucks, sir, I think you've done a pretty fine job, too! Granted, I do believe there to be room for improvement, but it hasn't been too shabby of a time."

"You're speaking nonsense, lad. Don't refer to this country as if it's about to be taken over by the Union."

"Didn't mean it to sound that way, sir. I do apologize." He straightened up and turned away, Davis following close behind. "But, personally, I do have one request, one thing I believe can help the people."

"Name it."

Confederate took a deep breath, then said, "I request to be given the permission to follow General Lee in his campaign." When the young nation looked back and noticed the conflicted expression of his president, he added, "Just for a few weeks. I promise I'll keep myself safe. I just wish to repay the Union for capturing my forts, and for waging this senseless war on me in the first place."

It took a few minutes for Davis to respond, and when he did, Confederate sighed in relief. "I don't see why you'd need _my_ position. You're a free country, Confederate; you can do as you will. Just make sure General Lee knows you'll be with him, else he won't be able to keep an eye on you."

Any other day, Confederate would have complained about being watched over. As it was, though, he didn't feel like arguing with Davis, so, instead, he nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

Asking was the easy part. Planning was the easy part.

But he was certain he could handle the challenges to come.

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><p><strong>wow did you see that. did you see that awful ending. i sure as hell did.<br>**

**Granted, the entire thing was pretty awful, but...eh. Think of it as a sucky intermission before we get to the Seven Days Battles. Those should be better, I promise.**

**The history notes won't be long this time, since I don't really feel like going in depth.**

_**Fort Henry**_**was taken from the Confederacy by the Union on February 6th, 1862. This was one of Grant's first victories, and a rather important one, at that. _Fort Donelson_ was taken by Grant ten days later, after a very long battle. Despite the fact that the Union lost more men, the Confederacy was forced to surrender, so because of the amount of men who became prisoners and/or went missing, the Confederate toll was greater.**

_**The**** Ironclads **_**were these fantastic ships. Like, big and armored and stuff. I believe the first one was actually made by the French, but the American Civil War kinda popularized them. The Union completed their ironclad first, despite starting it later, and it was named the _USS Monitor. _The Confederate's ship was from an old commercial ship, and it was named the _CSS Virginia_ (also commonly known as the _CSS Merrimack_). These weren't the only ironclad ships in the Civil War, nor were they the first, but they were the first to go into battle. Afterwards, the Union made about fifty more, and the Confederate _tried_ to make more, but European nations kept confiscating them. Especially Russia. I'm pretty certain Russia was the only open ally of the Union (might have to do some more research on that). **

**Anyway, I do hope you made it past the suck, and if you did, leave a review to tell me you're still alive. I do assure you that the next chapter will be better. 8D  
><strong>

**Also, thank you to all my reviewers thus far! You guys rock!**


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